It's hard for us to IMAGINE being so rigidly locked into fossilized, monotonous
behavior patterns, and it's natural that we speculate: "Aw, the Normals
can't REALLY be that bad, NOBODY could be; it's GOT to be US that's
crazy." But that's giving the Pink WAY too much credit.

We're sick of our less confident fellow SubGenii feeling vaguely guilty
because they have the FAIRNESS to be a little unsure if maybe the Pinks
aren't right. We're just reminding you -- they AREN'T!! There're
just MORE of them. It's best to look at them as an unfortunate fact of life,
a force of nature, like drought. You can't prevent it, but you have to deal
with it.

But it's another blatant case of something being as literally over their
heads as is that bleeding one of Arnold Palmer upon Launching.

The CRAZIER a disparate set of facts and theories seem to be, the longer
they tend to kick around in your mind, until you begin to see the connections
between them. Sometimes there are connections that not even the craziest
"normal" crackpot has stumbled upon -- and yet, we find
them!

We are "maladjusted" -- we'll never adjust to the pain. This gets
us in a lot of trouble on weekends.

Why do people in this enlightened age still cling to silly superstitions,
when everything can be explained by SubGenius superscience? For instance,
who needs God, when there's DNA? Pain and pleasure, and damnation and redemption,
may be dramatic byproducts of life's endless battle, but the process
has only one purpose: to selectively develop the most efficient possible
genetic coding, and to project it forward into the future. We are nothing
more than water-filled, gelatinous delivery mechanisms for that Code,
which cares about nothing, and has infinite patience and limitless time
to pursue its own incomprehensible agenda. We're merely a handy vehicle
on which it may travel through the eons, undergoing as many interesting
permutations as possible; the more complex the Code becomes, the closer
it approaches the One True DNA Code. To kill time along the way, or to justify
our misery, the vehicle, which is US, keeps trying to come up with explanations
for what we're doing, fantasies about why we might be important... but that's
just a diversion for the robot chassis.

We are only animals on a glandular leash... but we are the most dangerous
animal, the Godzilla of our age. We kill more species than all the rest
of them put together. However, our environment automatically seeks to out-evolve
us, and the lowliest of all organisms, the viruses and bugs, evolve faster.
They are our stiffest competition. As soon as we shake off bubonic plague
and leprosy, along comes cancer and retro viruses. Whether or not our invincible
technology can keep up with them is a moot point. The real question is,
can our technology keep up with itself? Can it save us from its own
poisons, or will we out-evolve ourselves?

Going back to the caves is not the answer to the world's problems. It might
be your personal escape, sure, but only as long as the Pinks don't
want your cave for a bomb shelter. Why, technology could bring us the heaven-on-Earth
depicted in magazines like The Watchtower... if we use it with Slackful
intent. We definitely don't want to revert to the Stone Age, but we
just as definitely must drag the Stone Age along with us as we plod
on into the future, seeking a BETTER ATOM AGE. We must haul Fred Flintstone
along with George Jetson, or we will lose all perspective on our primary
mission -- which is apparently to be fruitful and multiply, and relentlessly
consume everything in our path until nothing but ourselves remains.

If you're truthful with yourself, you'll admit that everything you choose
to do is done solely to make you feel better. Even if self-sacrifice is
your `thing,' you're still just another sick fetishist doing it because
it makes you feel good. Self-interest is the ONLY motivation, and
unless you're a pervert, you'll agree that the most purely self-pleasing
sensation is the orgasmic oozin' and squirtin' moment. If it wasn't for
that, and all the "surrogate squirts" (like music, power over
others, prayer, etc.), men and women would not tolerate each other, and
life would cease.

This may disappoint those who were looking for a more `elevated,' high-faluting
meaning to life, but HONESTLY: ISN'T THAT ENOUGH?If
it's not, then that's probably because you haven't had the full-gospel
OOZSQUIRT.

And you probably haven't, because the Conspiracy has been watering down
our bloodline, and hence our capacity for Slack Awareness, eversince
we created the Conspiracy in Mutantis in 80,000,000 B.C. That's right,
we created the Conspiracy. Hideously ironic, but true. Did you really
think that something as fiendishly insidious as the Con
could have been devised by NORMALS?? We didn't mean to do it... we
were SET UP by an even BIGGER Conspiracy! Nevertheless, it's up to "Bob"
and us to destroy it, and it's up to you to start -- by rooting
and burning it out of yourself.

We're here to make sure you GET that full-gospel Oozsquirt that you are
owed!

"Now that we are on the Highway of Slack, where there's no longer
a speed limit, we may go as fast as we'd like. But we have to pay "Bob"
a toll. It cost "Bob," the first Upright "Bob,"
and his monks and monsters, a mighty pile to build that Highway."
-- Dr. Philo Drummond, Road Sermon #576 (1979)

But the most compelling evidence of the glory that was Antiquitum is The
Great Road -- something you won't be told about in the controlled media!
(Present company excluded.) Seismic sonar techniques have revealed, miles
beneath the planet's surface, a gigantic, globe-spanning "ribbon"
around the Earth, made of solid stone. Thousands of meters wide and hundreds
thick, it encircles the planet horizontally, at the equator, and vertically,
around the poles.[7] The Mobil Oil
geologists who discovered it originally thought it was a tremendous wall
that had flopped over onto its side... until they found bi-Cyclopean "traffic
lights" at the two intersections (located beneath the jungles of equatorial
Ecuador and an ocean trench off the southern coast of Malaysia). This `road,'
with intricate interlocking joints and hinges allowing it to swell and contract
with the `breathing' of the Earth, had obviously been constructed by an
extremely advanced civilization. Most astounding, however, is that the artifact
predates not only the dinosaurs but even the vertebrates -- yet it
seems to be inscribed over its entire length with gargantuan designs
of some impenetrable C'thulhuvian occult significance! As yet, the
seismo-photographs reveal only tantalizing hints of these pictures, hieroglyphs,
or whatever they are. Was "God" an astronaut? A cartoonist?
Is the Earth itself just some... logo?

After the Elder Gods went into self-imposed hibernation following their
Dream Wars, a more degenerate race occupied the Grid System: the Deros
or Supersonic Nazi Hell Creatures from Beneath the Hollow Earth.[8]
Still under their clumsy demonic management today, the Grid System malfunctions
constantly, causing random space-time warps around the surface of the planet.
Both the Deros from the caverns, and the UFO-riding "Greys" from
the star Sirius, take advantage of these space-time `portals' not only to
broadcast their insidious silent radio mind control rays into the minds
of innocent humans and SubGeniuses, but also to physically materialize and
carry out abductions and impregnations -- all in collusion with the U.S.
government!

Why did the Xists and Elder Gods require the Yeti? The Elder Gods are aetherial,
bodiless. They cannot interact with the coarser vibrations of physical things.
Imprisoned for the most part in their own dimension, they can influence
occurrences on our plane only psychically.[9]
The Yeti were one means by which they could toy with gross matter, first
by bending the wills of the Xists (who are largely nonphysical) into creating
the Yeti, and then by directing the Yeti to themselves shape genetic chains
and forge new beings ("product").

Also, there are things that Yeti (and SubGeniuses!) can do, but the Xists
cannot, simply because we have so fewer senses than Xists. We possess
a sense that we don't even know we have, taken for granted, but which the
Xists lack (or, rather, it is buried beneath their myriad other senses.)
Just as we use dogs to hunt birds, the Elder Gods used Yeti for `hunting'
human soul.[10]

Yeti were not behaviorally flawless, as they themselves so tragically learned.
Mentally and physically, however, they were indeed the perfect bipedal
Earth-form, of which the modern SubGenius is only a pathetic shadow, a reverted
beast-man.

The thumb was more opposable than is ours, that is, placed higher on the
hand, nearer the long, spidery, Hendrix-like fingers.

Their mental powers were such that they acquired such skills as speech telepathically,
in utero.

Whereas the human eyebrow is manipulated by three muscles, the Yeti eyebrow
had nineteen... creating a sometimes rippling line over the eyes,
capable of leaping up to the very hairline in surprise, or pinching down
so far over the nose as to meet at the lips in anger.

The nose was easily as dense with olfactory nerves as is that of the modern
dog, and often as prominent, but remarkably expressive. The olfactory tissues
were so extensive that, removed and spread out, they would have a couple
of acres of surface area.

(The blithering little Normals have become so inbred, one is reminded of
the "civilized" Eloi in The Time Machine who thought they
could remain above the apish Morlocks toiling outside the dome... but who
ended up being kept as beef cattle.)

We patronize our targets so snidely, and tell them what they want to hear
so insincerely, that we wallow in the knowledge that they can't realize
we are actually `counting coup' on them (sometimes even while selling them
SubGenius books![11]).

Someday, some deep-sea oil drilling team will unearth a fossilized Yeti
building. (Someone may already have done so, but, as with the crashed saucers,
they have kept the event secret "for reasons of national security.")

Nevertheless, Yeti had NO RELIGION. The overall intelligence and flexibility
of will was such that superstitions were utterly absent from the Yeti mind.
They were incapable of any but the most cogent logic mixed with the most
sublime mysticism. Despite their complete understanding of the physical
universe, as well as an intuitive appreciation of the Music of the Spheres,
they had detected NO SINGLE INTELLIGENT FORCE behind the workings of reality,
only a chaotic bureaucracy of competing sub-deities and managers. They were
aware that their masters, the Xists, were in turn manipulated by an even
vaster entity called JHVH-1, and that JHVH-1 was but a youthful rebel among
the Elder Gods, but they recognized these only as larger and more powerful
entities than themselves. Yeti presupposed no life after death, for they
had no death, only transmigration -- which for them was neither magic nor
science, but plain common sense.

As a prelude to sex, the Yeti would often stand on one another's feet,
embrace, and "kiss." (An observer would be hard put to tell where
one head ended and the other began.) This would gradually change, over the
hours, into acubiting ranging from sweetly gentle to ragingly fierce.

A Yeti's jaw and tongue could easily drop from its face all the way down
to the crotch of another. A ring of muscle in both the male and female Yeti
crotch, a tube about a foot long between the prehensile sphincter and the
genitals, could extrude partially for coupling -- not unlike train cars
locking together.[12] The Yeti vagina
was lined with muscular "fingers" which could squeeze and knead.
The cervix boasted lip-like tissue that could wrap around any intruder and
apply suction while the little fingers worked.

The penis (bifurcated, with two separate glans) possessed a muscle which
could bunch up and waggle rapidly like a tongue doing a Bronx cheer, or
pulsate more slowly, like a wave rippling up and down a rope. Males could
tighten up these muscles, constrict the vessels, and thus bloat alternating
portions of their members of regeneration like a bullfrog's throat.[13]
Hinged, the penii could swivel around to point backwards, allowing two Yeti
to pop their pelvises out of joint and copulate end-to-end[14]
-- indeed, in any position.

Breathing into and with each other's lungs initiated a tele-alchemical
transformation, changing oxygen into "Church Air," an aphrodisiac.

If a second Elder god can manage to locate another two Lost
Yeti Mate SubGeniuses for simultaneous use, then the TWO Elder Gods
can, so to speak, "copulate" on some plane we cannot ever hope
to comprehend, or would even want to.[15]

The Church is not a bad way to start seeking out your True Yeti Mate --
if you want one -- but you'd better keep broadening your horizons
in every other direction you can, too. Our early Good Sex for Mutants
Dating League was a miserable bust, we admit -- a hellish sinkhole of
the most desperate, lonely dweebs and nerds in the world -- but we've lived
that down. Church demographics have changed drastically since the early
"boys' club" years, and from chance meetings of SubGenii,
at devivals, parties, by mail, or (via Dobbs-emblazzoned apparel) on the
street, many wonderful romances have blossomed. Not a few have gone down
in flames, true, but that is because they were so incendiary to begin with.
True Yeti Mates don't always both come from a Church background,
but the SubGenius connection is unfailingly the critical, if inexplicable,
link in the complex chain of events which brought them together.

Stop letting THEM walk all over you, and you will do and know what
you WANT, not what they want you to pay for.

A handful of devolved Yeti remain here on Earth, phase-shifted halfway into
the 7th dimension, so that we cannot see them -- appearing to us only rarely,
and only when there are no other witnesses.[16]

It was theorized that the doltish males would be twice as likely to breed,
if inspired by a second set of globular sex-triggers. The Yeti decided to
duplicate these large hind appurtenances on the fronts of the females
by enlarging the lactating glands into soft, bouncy buttock-fetish symbols.
These counterfeit tuberosities of the ischium were made target-like by the
addition of circles and dots that would change shape when manipulated, exciting
the females and keeping the males interested long enough to find the right
place for seed-dispensation. Hair was cultivated to make the spot even easier
to locate.